


Breaking Down Barriers

by Chichirinoda



Series: Chain Arc [3]
Category: Soul Eater
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-02
Updated: 2009-03-02
Packaged: 2017-10-14 07:58:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chichirinoda/pseuds/Chichirinoda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giriko wants something from Mifune, and as far as he's concerned, he's going to get it whether Mifune likes it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Down Barriers

"Mifune, where did you get the pretty jewellery? Did you get me a present, too?"

Angela's voice was a little bit pouty and she pointed with an almost accusing air at the chain collar encircling Mifune's throat, her lower lip pooching out a bit. Mifune was just tucking her blankets up to her chin and he paused, feeling a rush of cold run down his spine as if he'd just had a bucket of water upended over his head.

"Oh, ah... I got it a long time ago, Angela-sama," Mifune lied, reaching up to touch the links with his fingertips. "I just found them in my luggage yesterday night and I decided to wear them again." He reached out and brushed light fingers through her curls, forcing a smile to his lips. "Maybe the next time we go out, I can get you a little necklace, okay?"

The pout disappeared and she smiled brilliantly. It was like the sun had come out in Mifune's world, and he found his own smile grow natural again. "Okay!" she said chirpily. "Promise?" she added with a bit of suspicion.

"I promise," Mifune said.

Beaming, she snuggled down with her newt. "Will you read me a story, Mifune?" she asked plaintively.

Mifune hesitated. Angela had been a bit of a terror tonight and it had been a struggle getting her bathed, pyjamaed and into bed. Now it was less than five minutes shy of ten o'clock, and he had no idea what Giriko would do if Mifune were late on only his second day of servitude.

"I can't, Angela-sama," he said finally, adding another item to his extremely long and growing mental list of Giriko's slights against him. "I'm sorry, I have a very important meeting to go to tonight, and I won't be back until very late. Will you be a good girl and go to sleep without one tonight?"

She squirmed impatiently. "Will you sleep with me again tonight, then?" she asked defiantly.

"What?" Mifune started in dismay. He had barely slept the night before at all, cold and uncomfortable on the floor. And he had stolen out of the room around dawn to do his morning exercises. He had been sure Angela hadn't woken up, but apparently he had been wrong.

"I woke up and you were sleeping on the floor, Mifune," Angela said, her little eyebrows drawing together in worry. "You were making funny noises in your sleep. Did you get lost on your way to bed?"

"No, Angela-sama," Mifune said softly. "I just...wanted to..." He couldn't think of anything to say, so he just gave her the truth. "I wanted to be near you. The way you come to my bed when you have bad dreams."

"Adults have bad dreams, too?" she asked, her eyes big and round.

"Sometimes," Mifune whispered.

"Well, you should just come into bed with me like I do with you," she said reproachfully. "And newt-san will drive all of the bad dreams away. Right newt-san?" She made the plushie nod, and beamed up at Mifune.

He cupped her cheek and bent, giving her a kiss on the forehead. His heart ached. "The next time I have a bad dream, I will," he said gently. "Now will you go to sleep? I can't be late."

"Okay," she said agreeably, burrowing down in her blankets. "Good night, Mifune."

"Good night, Angela-sama," Mifune murmured, moving to the door and switching off the light. He closed the door and locked it, then glanced at the clock.

"Shit," he murmured, quickly unbuckling his sword and setting it by the door. He spat out the needle and heard it clatter away, then hurried out of the room.

It took about five minutes to walk from his room to Giriko's through the corridors if he didn't hurry. He didn't run this time, but he did walk faster than he would normally have done, and rapped on the door the moment he reached it.

A moment later, Giriko yanked the door open and glared at him, obviously livid. "You're _late_ this time," he snarled.

"I know," Mifune said. He had been thinking hard about what he would say if Giriko noticed his tardiness, all the way here, and even though it stung his pride he had decided that the prudent route was the best one all around. This time. "I apologize. Angela was being very stubborn and I was having some trouble getting her to go to bed."

Giriko looked somewhat mollified, which surprised Mifune once again. "Well, it's a good thing I'm thinking, then," he said. "Get your tight ass in here and meet Bekko."

 _What? Oh hell no,_ Mifune thought, horrified. Giriko had _invited_ someone?

He stepped into the room and saw a masked man standing in the room. He looked exactly like every other one of Arachne's minions, with his round mask and his clothes draped to cover his head and his entire body.

"Bekko here's got a little girl back home," Giriko said with an air of satisfaction, gesturing towards the man. "He's gonna take care of Angela while you're here, so you don't have to feel like you gotta get back to her, and you don't have to fight with her to get her to go to bed early enough, either."

Mifune stared at Bekko, his mind going over the words with a sinking feeling. Giriko obviously hadn't given up on his desire to get Mifune to stay the night, and had now come up with this solution. A solution that Mifune heartily did _not_ want.

"I've got kids myself," Giriko was saying. "I know what snotty little pains of asses they can be. Now we don't need to worry about it."

Bekko gave a little wave.

"But...but..." Mifune stammered. "Angela doesn't know him. And it's my duty to care for her..."

Giriko's air of happy satisfaction soured. "Yeah well, we both know what your _new_ duty is," he said sharply. "I ain't sayin' you aren't the one to care for her anymore. But it's normal to get someone to take care of her if you can't be around. So that's Bekko. He'll care for her when you're on missions, too, right?" This last word was directed to Bekko, who bobbed his head eagerly.

"Yes, Giriko-sama. Sure I can."

Mifune noted in the back of his stunned and unhappy mind that Bekko had a nice voice. It was quite normal-sounding, with a pleasant tone. Angela would probably not mind him too much, if Mifune introduced them and told her to be good for him.

"I...I'll have to introduce them first," he said in a slightly-strangled voice. "Angela is very wilful and she's not a stupid child. She won't trust and obey him unless I tell her he can personally."

"Well duh," Giriko growled. "I know how to take care of kids, Mifune."

Mifune turned to look at him, disbelief plain in his eyes. Giriko had raised children in order to _possess_ their bodies or something similarly depraved. He didn't know the details, but he knew that somehow he had used his children to extend his life, in any case.

"I raised 'em up before I took their bodies!" Giriko said defensively in answer to his look. "And I didn't do it to all of my kids, either. I've had a lotta kids in eight hundred years, you know!"

"That's wonderful for you," Mifune said caustically. "What a good father you are, I'm sure."

"I was good to 'em!" Giriko snapped. "And I don't like how you're talkin' to me!"

"I'm sorry you don't like it," Mifune said, not sounding sorry at all. Bekko had gasped a couple of times during this exchange, obviously shocked that Mifune was talking to Giriko this way.

Giriko took a threatening step towards him, a fist rising, but then he abruptly turned away and gestured towards the door. "Go and get him acquainted with Angela, fuck. But you better be back in half an hour, and if you're late again you're _really_ fucking gonna be 'sorry'."

"As you wish," Mifune bit out. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, Bekko falling into step behind him.

* * *

Bekko tried a couple of times on the way back to Mifune's suite to engage him in conversation, and - he suspected - in particular to try to ferret out some information on what Giriko wanted him for, but Mifune did his best to rebuff the questions.

Angela was uncertain, and Mifune suspected that she sensed his own agitation. But in the end she accepted this strange man and seemed willing to go back to bed knowing that he was there to watch over her if she needed anything. Mifune didn't mention that he wouldn't be back until morning, hoping that he would at least return before she awakened, and not wanting to give her more reasons to be concerned.

It occurred to him as he left that he really didn't know anything about Bekko, and that he didn't even know what the man looked like. He wasn't at all comfortable with this, but as usual he simply had no option. He only had to hope that there was some kernel of truth to Giriko's assurance that Bekko was an appropriate caregiver, and hope that Angela wouldn't need anything in the night that Bekko couldn't give.

"Come and get me if you can't handle her," he implored Bekko. "She's a witch, and she _does_ have magic. If you can't deal with it, I'd rather you fetched me than for her to blow something up or try to find me herself."

"All right, all right, I got it," Bekko said, dropping down to sit on the couch. "Relax, dad. Everything's going to be fine."

Mifune glanced at the clock, cursed, and dropped it. There was nothing more he could do, and he was about to be late again. "If you touch any of my personal things, I will know," he added as he disappeared back out the door.

This time he ran.

It wasn't too far, but he was still breathing a bit deeper by the time he reached Giriko's door again, probably because his heart was pounding about twice as fast as it needed to out of apprehension. He knocked and Giriko opened the door, giving him a sour look. The wait obviously hadn't improved his mood.

"Everything settled?" he asked impatiently. "You barely made it."

"I'm here, aren't I?" Mifune replied.

"Yeah, and as much of a bitch as when you left," Giriko replied, stepping back to let him in. "Take off your fucking clothes. All of them," he added, as Mifune stepped over the threshold.

Mifune twitched. He could at least have closed the door before saying that. People could overhear, if there was anyone in the corridor. He hadn't noticed anyone, but you never really knew in this place, and Arachne's minions started to blend together after a while, so that you hardly noticed them.

"All right," he said irritably.

"All right, _sir_ ," Giriko said pointedly. Mifune hesitated, fingers on his buttons, and looked at Giriko. Had Giriko ever told him to call him 'sir'? He was sure he hadn't.

"Pardon?" he asked.

"You can call me 'sir' from now on," Giriko said, showing his sharp teeth. "I think it'll make you more polite, and I'm tired of getting shit from you."

 _Right, because you're so polite, and I never get shit from you,_ Mifune thought resentfully. So much for not being polite to trash.

He realized that he probably should have seen this coming.

"Yes, _sir_ ," he growled, his tone showing his contempt for the title.

"Better," Giriko said, smirking. Then he made a twirling motion with his hand that Mifune interpreted as meaning that he should get on with stripping his clothes off.

Sighing softly, Mifune glared at Giriko and undid the buttons. He didn't take his time this time, since the day before Giriko had seemed to think that doing it slowly made him a whore. His fingers moved over the buttons and opened his shirt in a few moments, but as he shrugged out of the shirt and reached for his fly, Giriko stepped close and caught his hand.

"Woah, woah," he said. "I know you can't wait for me to fuck you, but you can slow down."

Mifune felt the exasperation he experienced flicker across his face before he could control his expression. If he went too slow, he was a stripper and a whore, and now apparently taking off his clothes at a normal speed meant that he was overly eager. He couldn't win!

"I'm not a whore," he blurted out before he realized he was going to say anything. "I'm _not_."

Giriko just laughed. "Fuck you are so self-conscious," he said. "I never woulda thought it. It bothers you so much, doesn't it? You care so much what I think."

"No, I..." Mifune clenched his hands into fists, one of them still held within Giriko's hands. "I _don't_ care what you think."

"Sure, sure," Giriko jeered. "That's why you can't stand it when I talk dirty to you, and why you _ran_ here, scared I'd be pissed you were late."

Mifune felt his cheeks heating. "You're wrong," he said. He couldn't stand the things Giriko said because they felt degrading and humiliating, because they were crass and crude and he wouldn't like _anyone_ directing such filthy speech towards him. And he had run because he...

Because he _was_ afraid that Giriko would do something terrible to him. He was afraid. Because he felt so very helpless in this situation.

He struggled not to hang his head at the realization, knowing it would only confirm his weakness in Giriko's eyes.

"I ain't wrong," Giriko said, his smile widening. "But you shouldn't worry about me callin' you a whore. I told you already, no one else'll have that ass of yours, other than me. Not _ever_."

If this was meant to be comforting, it failed utterly. The idea that Mifune would never have another lover after Giriko, that Giriko would use him as he liked for the foreseeable future, was utterly horrifying to him.

Giriko was watching his face intently, and Mifune wondered what emotions he was betraying. He couldn't regain control over his features. His defences were already weak from the rape the day before, and the day before that. He needed more time to recover his emotional equilibrium, and Giriko wasn't going to give it to him.

Finally, Giriko released his hand and nodded. "Go on, finish. I wanna see all of you." There was a possessive relish in his voice, and Mifune knew what he was thinking - he wanted to see all of Mifune's body. All of the body he now thought he _owned_.

His stomach burning, Mifune undid the fly of his pants and lowered them. He couldn't stop the flush from rising to his cheeks and deepening as he bared himself completely to Giriko's covetous eyes.

Giriko walked around him again, examining him from every angle, before finally coming around to the front once more. Mifune's head was bowed, trying to hide at least some of the blush, and he saw the telltale bulge in Giriko's pants that showed his interest was already piqued.

"Very fucking nice," Giriko said smugly. "So you think it's too boring to help me out with my golem for a bit? You'd rather get right in there?" He pointed towards his bedroom.

Mifune clutched at this idea like a drowning man. "No," he said hastily. He wouldn't make the same mistake he'd made yesterday. "No, it's not too boring. I'll help you if you want." And then, belatedly, "sir."

It couldn't hurt.

Giriko's smile was obvious in his tone. "Yeah, good. See? It's not so hard to be nice to me. I was tryin' to tell you yesterday."

 _It's not going to save me,_ Mifune thought bitterly, saying nothing in response. No, this had only staved off the inevitable. After all, Giriko had all night to torment him, and it was clear from the erection he was sporting that he hadn't somehow lost his desire for Mifune's body overnight.

Giriko grabbed Mifune's wrist and tugged him towards the couch. The bracelet dug into his skin at the tight grip. He picked his way through the clutter as he followed Giriko, feeling horribly exposed with no clothes on. But as he sank down into seiza again, he drew a breath to steady himself and looked up again.

He wouldn't hide his face anymore. He would meet Giriko's eyes, no matter that he was naked and Giriko was clothed. No matter that he was kneeling on the floor and Giriko was sitting on the sofa. No matter that Mifune had no choice but to follow Giriko's every command. It was Giriko who was nothing more than slime, and Mifune had nothing to be ashamed of.

He wouldn't let this psychological manipulation win. He _wouldn't_.

"Yanno," Giriko said conversationally as he plunked himself down on the couch and picked up something round that looked like it might one day be a golem head. "If you're real good, and you figure out your place, I bet I could let you sit on the furniture and stuff someday." He turned the hemisphere over to expose the underside and began tinkering inside.

"How magnanimous of you, _sir_ ," Mifune said with heavy irony. Giriko flashed him a smirk and then went back to his work.

Again Mifune knelt there, all but useless, passing tools up when instructed. It was a reprieve, though, and he tried to think of it as such, to be content with this task, such as it was. He was sure that Giriko was doing this on purpose, to heighten his apprehension and make him feel unimportant and slavelike, as if all the good he could do was this mindless work that a child could easily handle.

But at one point, during one of the times when Giriko paused in his work and spent a few long minutes just curling his fingers through Mifune's hair and letting his fingers drift down the back of his neck, a very strange thought occurred to him.

Could it be that Giriko just wanted to spend time with him? With Mifune?

No, that was ludicrous. Giriko had no reason to enjoy Mifune's company other than the base pleasure he could wring from his body. It wasn't as though they were friends or had anything in common. And besides, Giriko had shown in a hundred subtle and overt ways how little he liked Mifune and the utter contempt he felt for him, just in the last two days alone.

But the thought made Mifune see Giriko, at least somewhat, in a new light. Why had he chosen to do this? If it were just for the sex, would he really be making Mifune just sit here like this? Would he caress him so gently? Or was it just another way to assert ownership and throw Mifune off?

Giriko pulled his fingers from Mifune's hair and bent over his task again, using a chisel to carve out rough eyes from the domelike head.

"Why don't you make them pretty?" Mifune asked suddenly, noticing that the second eye was coming out lopsided, as Giriko gouged carelessly with the tool.

"Huh?" Giriko's head came up and his chisel slipped slightly, skittering along the forming eye socket and gouging it a bit wider. He didn't seem to notice or care, though. "What're you talking about?"

Mifune hadn't really meant to voice the thought out loud, and he regretted it already. It had always seemed that everything he said made Giriko angry and precipitated punishment, even when he didn't really _mean_ it to. And it seemed only a matter of time before this line of conversation resulted in more of the same.

But he had opened his mouth, largely out of boredom, and so he had to deal with it now. "I just wondered," he said uncertainly, trying to choose his words with care. "Because you spend so much time working on golems, and you have such skill, but the end results always look so rough and monstrous, as if you whipped them off in moments and didn't care."

Giriko stared at him with a curious, startled expression on his face. "You were thinking about that?" he asked, his lips spreading in a wide smile that showed most of his teeth.

Mifune looked at that smile warily, wondering what in hell Giriko was thinking that would give him that expression.

"Yes I was - obviously," he said uncomfortably, since Giriko was obviously waiting for him to say something.

Giriko considered him for a moment. "Yeah well, the answer is because I think they look scarier that way."

At first, Mifune was honestly startled that Giriko had a _reason_ , and that it was a logical one. But perhaps he shouldn't have been. Giriko had spent eight centuries honing his craft. Surely even _he_ had thought about what he was doing once or twice.

"Don't you ever make golems for any purpose other than destroying things?" he asked.

"Sure," Giriko said, grinning. He seemed to be having a lot of fun, and Mifune couldn't imagine why. "Obviously all the golems I made before Arachne-sama was reborn were just to do manual labour and stuff. But I like makin' them look scary, anyway. It's more interesting."

Before Mifune could reply, he set the golem skull and chisel aside and caught Mifune by the shoulder. "Come sit in my lap."

Mifune's thoughts were abruptly derailed. They had been having an actual _conversation_ , and for a moment he had forgotten that he was naked and kneeling on the floor and that Giriko was the biggest asshole in the world. The situation abruptly came crashing down upon him once more and his muscles bunched under Giriko's hand as he tensed.

Before Giriko could get upset, though, he moved to obey. Reluctantly, he got to his feet and Giriko slipped his arms around his bare waist and pulled him down to sit. He wasn't quite prepared for the move, and he sat down a bit hard, perched sideways, with Giriko's erection prodding him uncomfortably through far too little fabric.

Giriko shifted to get comfortable, tugging Mifune's legs up onto the couch so he wasn't sitting up so much as draped, his knees bent and his back resting against the arm of the couch. To steady himself, he had to put his arms around Giriko's neck, which made it far too intimate for his liking, as if he actually wanted to be there.

He could feel himself blushing.

"Yeah, that's better," Giriko said when they'd finally gotten themselves sorted out. He rested his hand on one of Mifune's knees and his thumb caressed his inner thigh maddeningly.

Mifune swallowed the irritable words that rose to his throat, trying to remember what he had been about to say. The conversation had been going well. Giriko had seemed to like talking about his work, and it hadn't been about sex for once, or in any way degrading of Mifune's character. He wanted desperately to recapture that moment before things got worse again.

"W-well... uh," he stammered, trying to reorder his thoughts. "Anyway, I think it might be nice if they looked good sometimes," he said lamely. "It's one thing if they're meant to fight, then it makes sense for them to be frightening."

"Hmm," Giriko mused as if he were taking Mifune's words seriously. "Why, though?"

Mifune tried desperately to ignore the way Giriko's hand was drifting down the smooth, tender skin of his inner thigh.

"It's like...like art," he said, his voice slightly strained. "People like having attractive things around them. If you're going to make golems to do manual labour, and they can't be damaged anyway except by a very strong attack, wouldn't it be nice if they were more like statues? Like works of art?"

Giriko's hand paused as he started. "Works of art?"

"Yes," Mifune said, grateful that Giriko seemed to be paying attention. "Wouldn't that be interesting, too? If people admired your work as more than just something that is useful for its purpose?"

Giriko's voice sounded stunned. "Admired my work? Like...like art?"

There was a glimmer of humanity, of _something_ in that voice, and Mifune latched onto it like a drowning man. "Yes, exactly. You're so talented. I'm sure that you could do it."

There was a moment of silence as a smile spread on Giriko's lips. Mifune looked up at him feeling a glimmer of hope in his chest. "Yeah...you might have something there," he said. "You really might."

"You think so?" Mifune asked, smiling uncertainly in return.

"Yeah, maybe," Giriko temporized. Then he bent, and before Mifune could react, he was kissing him.

Mifune made a muffled noise of surprise as his lips were suddenly captured. Giriko's hand slid between his legs and curled around his cock, stroking quickly, and Mifune squirmed as he felt his body betraying him once more, felt himself hardening under his sure touch.

Giriko swiped his tongue across Mifune's lips and the swordsman shrank back slightly, only to receive a savage bite to his lower lip. He pulled back with a cry, the kiss breaking as blood ran down his chin. Giriko's teeth were so sharp.

"That means open the fuck up," Giriko growled. "Remember for next time." Then he tightened the arm wrapped around Mifune's shoulders, tugging him close again and resuming the kiss.

Mifune tasted blood as they kissed, but holding himself aloof was becoming less and less of a possibility. Giriko masturbated him, merciless though he wasn't being rough, and his tongue thrust deeply into Mifune's mouth and explored every crevice. Within minutes, Mifune was gasping round Giriko's tongue, writhing in his lap, and feeling Giriko's cock hard against his ass, contained by Giriko's pants but straining against the fabric.

His whole body was flushing with arousal, and he couldn't stop himself from giving voice to soft moans of pleasure as the sensations moved through him with greater and greater intensity.

It took only a few minutes longer before Mifune's body tensed and he shuddered with climax, spilling fluid over his own chest and stomach.

Giriko straightened, licking his own lips with satisfaction and stroking Mifune's twitching, pulsing cock until the last drops had spent themselves and he grew flaccid again. Mifune lay half insensible in Giriko's lap, gasping for breath, struggling to regain some semblance of dignity, but his whole body was trembling.

How had he been reduced to this by a simple hand-job? It had been merciless in its efficiency, as if Giriko knew his body better than he knew his own. Perhaps the question was in his eyes as he opened them and looked up at Giriko, because the man smirked.

"Heh," Giriko said, looking down at him. "You'll get to appreciate me eventually, I'm sure. After eight hundred years, I know a thing or two about how to fuck."

Mifune didn't doubt that. What he doubted was that he'd ever appreciate Giriko for it. Rape that felt good was still rape, and Giriko didn't seem to get that at all. Or maybe he just didn't care, and it made him feel powerful to know that he could bring Mifune to climax against his will whenever he wanted.

Giriko smoothed his hand deliberately over the mess on Mifune's stomach, then lifted his hand, dripping, to Mifune's mouth.

Mifune made a face of disgust, but at Giriko's pointed look he opened his mouth obediently and licked the mess from his fingers and palm. As he had the day before, Giriko caressed Mifune's cheek lightly with the cleaned fingers, smiling. "Good," he murmured approvingly, and Mifune's cheeks burned with shame and hatred.

Mifune's chest was still sticky, but to his surprise, Giriko grabbed a rag from somewhere. There were oil spots on it, but he used a clean corner to dab up the rest of the mess. Mifune watched in faint amazement as Giriko finished the task of cleaning him up, then gave him a nudge in the side.

"Get up. You've had your fun and now it's my turn," Giriko said.

And what fun it had been, Mifune reflected sourly as he got to his feet. Perhaps Giriko thought that that had made up for everything, because he had taken no pleasure himself. Well, Mifune didn't think giving him a hand-job he hadn't wanted counted as charity.

He deliberately put his weight a bit too hard down on Giriko's lap as he got up, making it seem accidental, and heard with satisfaction as Giriko grunted with pain. It was a small victory, but in this situation he'd take what he could get.

Giriko got to his feet as well, tugging at his waistband to readjust himself. "Go on, into the bedroom," he said, flapping a hand at Mifune. "We're going to have a bit of real fun now."

This sounded ominous.

As Mifune turned away without a word to head for the bedroom, Giriko swatted him lightly on the ass. Mifune jumped and turned to glare at him, walking a little bit faster, and Giriko smirked at him, all of his pointed teeth showing.

"I figure we've gotta institute a new rule," he said as they walked into the room. "You like rules, right?"

Mifune liked things to be somewhat orderly, that much was common knowledge. For example, if you saw a band of yellow tape reading "keep out", you kept out. It only seemed natural to him, but apparently people like Giriko didn't understand such simple truths.

"I suppose so," Mifune said grudgingly.

"I suppose so...?" Giriko said in a leading tone, his voice smug.

Mifune ground his teeth. "I suppose so, _sir_."

"Better," Giriko said with satisfaction. "You'll get used to it - just remember your place and everything'll be fine."

"You mentioned a rule, _sir_ ," Mifune growled, not wanting to dignify these words with any kind of response.

Giriko blinked. "Right, right," he said. "So the rule is if you're late or break any other rule like that, you'll get lashes. Should remind you not to be late again, right?"

Mifune struggled with every fibre of his being not to react to this, but his voice still sounded slightly faint as he spoke. "Lashes?"

"You heard me," Giriko said, smirking.

So it had finally come. Mifune reflected that it was almost surprising that it had taken this long for Giriko to actually start beating him. The psychological torture had been reasonably tame, and the sex hadn't even been that violent, though it had been degrading and humiliating, beginning to break down Mifune's emotional barriers.

But now he would bleed, for being a few minutes late to his appointment with Giriko.

Giriko was watching him, almost as if looking for a reaction. Mifune's mind grasped for something to say or do, and settled on something almost at random.

"You said we were going to have fun now," he said, then immediately felt like an utter fool. What a ridiculous thing to say. As if Giriko had been promising him a treat and it had been withdrawn. Nothing Giriko could do would be something he _wanted_ unless he removed the chains and set him free.

Giriko laughed and reached for him. Mifune flinched, but Giriko only rested his hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "You might like this," he said, his words flying in the face of all sanity and logic.

"Giriko, don't do thi--"

"You aren't gonna try to tell me what to do right now, are ya?" Giriko said loudly, overriding Mifune's desperate words and cutting him off. He glared at the swordsman. "Because I think you've gotten _that_ newsflash by now. Remember?"

"Y-yes, sir," Mifune said hollowly.

Giriko's eyes were narrowed. "Say it."

There was a short pause, then Mifune swallowed. "It doesn't matter what I want."

"Right," Giriko said, a note of triumph in his voice. "I don't give a fuck, so don't waste your breath."

There was nothing to do but nod. Mifune could feel his defeat in the set of his own shoulders and hated, _hated_ Giriko for it. He had never been defeated like this. When that child Blackstar had knocked him down, it had been bad, but that had only been temporary, the result of a momentary miscalculation.

This was _crushing_ , total and complete.

He had to find a way out of this. He knew that, now. His strength couldn't survive this constant assault.

But for now, he had to focus on getting through the next half-hour. Giriko was talking again, and he had to hear what he was saying, in case it was important. He couldn't afford to focus on anything but Giriko right now.

"...think one strike for every minute would be fair," Giriko was saying. "So between showing up late, and then having to go back to deal with Angela, by my calculations, that makes thirty-two."

Mifune's jaw dropped and his heart skipped a beat. "Th-thirty-two," he said in a strangled voice. He would be lucky to survive something like that. What was Giriko going to beat him with, anyway? He wasn't holding anything in his hands. Would it be hard or soft? Would it leave bruises or break bones, or would it flay his skin?

Mifune couldn't remember ever being scared like this before.

"That's what I said," Giriko said testily. "You got an objection? I could add more if ya like."

"N-no sir," Mifune said in a strained voice. God, what was going to happen to him now? And the thirty minutes hadn't been his fault, Giriko had given him the time, and it had been his idea to get Bekko to babysit. Besides, how could he reasonably be punished for something he hadn't known was against the rules?

If he had heard his own thoughts and realized how much they had changed already, he would have been horrified.

Slowly, but surely, Giriko was breaking him down.

"Get on the bed and hold onto the headboard. Right in the middle," Giriko ordered. "It'll be a bit awkward for me, but I don't have a good place. I'll build something for next time, maybe," he finished thoughtfully.

Mifune didn't react outwardly to the idea of Giriko building a special piece of equipment for use in torturing him. He merely turned away and crawled onto the bed. He knelt with his back to Giriko and gripped the top slat of the headboard.

Immediately the restraints around his wrists snaked around the slat and bound him tightly to the headboard. Mifune gaped for a moment at his own wrists. He hadn't known Giriko would be able to control the chains without touching them.

But his thoughts were interrupted as the one around his neck also came to life. A length extended as if it were unravelling, and lashed around the very lowest slat, then reeled him in. He yelped as he nearly hit his head on the headboard, but managed to tuck his head in and shift backwards as he was forced down, bowing almost to the mattress.

There was a moment of silence as Mifune tried to catch his breath. His heart was pounding. He was forced into an extremely awkward position, his arms lashed to the headboard above him, and spread as widely as possible, considering he was all but prostrate as well. Already his shoulders were beginning to ache.

Giriko grabbed him by the hips with rough hands and tugged him back a bit, then forced his legs wider apart. "There," he said once he'd apparently arranged Mifune to his satisfaction. "You nice and comfy?"

"No," Mifune said honestly, then, "sir."

Giriko laughed and patted him on the ass. "Don't worry, this'll be over pretty soon." Then he got up off the bed and Mifune heard him open a cabinet and rummage inside it. He returned in minutes and the mattress bowed as he climbed back into position.

Mifune wished he could turn his head enough to try to see what instrument Giriko was planning on beating him with. If he could even catch a glimpse of it, he would be able to prepare himself a little. But the severe position precluded him moving his head more than a few inches. He could see the door to the bedroom, if he craned his neck as far as he could, but he couldn't see Giriko on the bed behind him.

He had no idea what Giriko planned to use on him, and he was sure Giriko now had it in hand, that he had retrieved it from the cabinet. Giriko was stroking his back and buttocks with his fingers, as if testing his skin or preparing himself.

Soft or hard? Bruises or blood?

Mifune realized suddenly he was trembling and couldn't make himself stop.

Then suddenly something cold pressed against his entrance. Mifune was so keyed up and sure that whatever Giriko did next would hurt, that he cried out.

"Yeah, you like that, huh?" Giriko said smugly as he pressed the dildo into Mifune's body. Mifune felt a whimper bubble up in his throat as it stretched him. He was pretty sure it was small, slender, but it felt huge as it pushed into him without preparation.

It came to rest against his prostate and Mifune drew a ragged breath. Then Giriko grabbed his member and slid something soft and rubbery onto it, securing the ring at the base of Mifune's cock. He wondered why Giriko was putting something like that inside him, when he was clearly planning on beating him in a moment. He sincerely doubted that he was going to be aroused, or that the cock ring would serve any purpose.

Then Giriko touched something and the dildo began to pulse gently. "Oh fuck," Mifune moaned before he could stop himself, and Giriko laughed.

Then Giriko spoke again. "So I figure I better start you off easy. You've never done this kinda shit before, so you ain't trained up properly. Sooner or later, you'll like this stuff, and you'll be able to take a lot more punishment, but I gotta start ya off small."

What did that mean? Mifune squeezed his eyes shut more tightly, trying to ignore the insistent pulsing of the vibrator against his prostate. He wasn't trained? He would _like_ it? Not before he was broken completely, he was sure. Not when there was anything recognizable as Mifune left, would he enjoy _any_ of this.

And what did starting him off small mean? A more slender stick? Surely that would only hurt more.

"You listening?" Giriko suddenly said, sharply. "You hearin' me, Mifune?"

Mifune had to try twice before he could reply. "Yes, sir," he rasped.

Giriko didn't seem put off by his tone. "Okay, good, 'cause this is real important. You gotta count, all right? Nice and loud. If ya lose count, I'll have to start all over again."

Count. He could count. That he could do. It might even give him a focus, though it would mean he wouldn't be able to go inside himself as he had done yesterday. Without the liquor he had drunk, he wasn't sure he'd be able to do that again anyway, though.

"All right, sir," Mifune said.

"All right," Giriko said brightly. "So let's begin."

And he struck Mifune on the ass with the flat of his hand.

The strike rang out loudly in the room, but only stung the tiniest bit. Mifune was so startled that it didn't hurt that he almost forgot to count it.

"Uh, one," he said quickly, when he'd remembered.

"Good," Giriko said approvingly, and delivered a second spanking, which Mifune counted dutifully.

By five, he could feel it was becoming more sensitive, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Why was Giriko doing this? He had made it sound like it was going to be a dire punishment. It wasn't exactly fun, not with his arms and throat chained to the headboard, not to mention how humiliating it was, but it wasn't at all what he had expected.

Then again, he had said he would be starting him off slowly. That implied that he would slowly work up to something more severe.

By ten, Mifune was gasping for breath. His bottom was smarting, but something pleasant was happening in the pit of his stomach as well. Giriko was rubbing his back and ass between each strike, and even massaging his balls. It felt _good_ , and he was getting aroused again, despite himself, and despite the pain of the strikes, which were definitely stinging in earnest now. The vibrator continued to pulse, sending shocks of pleasure through his body.

At fifteen, Giriko reached around with his free hand and started stroking Mifune's cock, which was hard and flushed, not letting up even as he struck him again and again. Mifune was starting to really understand what this training might be, as Giriko crooned 'encouragement'.

"Oh yeah, Mifune, you fuckin' like this, don't ya? You're such a good, good slave. I'm gonna make ya feel so good. One day I'll be whippin' ya, and you'll scream for more."

By twenty, Mifune was writhing and each strike only seemed to add to the pleasure of Giriko's hand on him and the vibrator pulsing deep inside him. He was far from a second orgasm, but he was hard, so hard in Giriko's hand, and his ass was hurting, but each spanking seemed more like an addition to the intensity of the feelings, rather than an increase of pain.

Then at twenty-five, when Mifune was starting to give voice to soft cries, and have trouble gasping out the words, though he was careful to count each one, there was a loud knock at the door.

"What the _fuck_?" Giriko snapped. Mifune hung in his bonds, gasping for breath, scarcely understanding what had happened. All he knew was that Giriko had stopped stroking him, had stopped spanking him, and he wasn't finished yet.

The knock came again, and he whimpered as he realized what it was. Giriko snarled and the mattress shifted. Mifune craned his neck as far as it could go and saw him disappear through the door, limping from the wound to his thigh, and walking a bit bowlegged as well. He wondered distantly how aroused Giriko was by now.

He heard Giriko yank the door open and shout with fury. "What the _fuck_ do you want?"

"Giriko-sama, I...Mifune said to come if there was a problem." Mifune recognized Bekko's voice and abruptly his mind was crystal clear, his heart thumping. The sensation of the vibrator seemed distant. There was something wrong with Angela?

" _Fuck_!" Giriko shouted. "Fine, stay there. _Fuck_."

Giriko stomped back into the room, his step a bit uneven from the limp. Abruptly the chains snaked around Mifune's neck and wrists, and he collapsed to the bed. Still gasping and trembling from reaction, he pushed himself up and got a faceful of shirt as Giriko threw his clothes at him.

God, the vibrator was still going, and he was sweating and gasping for breath. He reached between his own legs, feeling the smooth end, and Giriko snapped loudly. "Leave it in! I'm not fucking finished with you yet!"

Mifune whimpered. "C-can I turn it off, at least?" he asked. Begged.

"Fine, fine," Giriko growled, and Mifune touched the switch. There was instant relief, an instant increase in the clarity of his thoughts and his ability to concentrate. The dildo shifted as he moved, but at least it wasn't pulsing maddeningly inside him.

Giriko was pacing the room like an angry wild animal in a cage. "What number were you up to?" he demanded suddenly, whirling and pointing an index finger in Mifune's face. Mifune was trying to sort out his clothing with shaking hands.

"T-twenty-five," Mifune said.

"All right, that means you've got seven left," Giriko said. "And whatever else you earn with this. Got it."

Mifune pulled his pants on, wincing as he buttoned and zippered the fly over his aching erection. "Yes, got it sir," he said. He was distracted with worry, but he didn't want to anger Giriko any further, either. It was better that the rage be directed at Bekko, who had interrupted.

He started towards the bedroom door, still buttoning his shirt, but then he stopped short as he saw Bekko standing in the doorway, watching. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, with his face hidden behind the mask. How much had he seen? How much had he heard?

Mifune's cheeks burned as he shouldered past Bekko and hurried out of the suite, pausing only long enough to step into his shoes.

He forced Bekko almost to run as he headed down the corridor. "What's wrong with Angela-sama?" he demanded, trying to take refuge in that subject and hope, irrationally hope that Bekko hadn't seen anything much other than him, perhaps, lacking his shirt.

He hadn't seen him chained to the headboard. Hadn't seen his ass turned red from abuse with the dildo protruding from between its cheeks. And dear lord, he hadn't heard him crying out with pleasure and pain even before he'd knocked on the door. Surely he hadn't been audible in the hallway.

"She...she's just demanding to see you," Bekko said, breathless as they ran. "She's crying, and she won't listen to me, won't even let me near her. I think she might have had a nightmare."

"Damnit," Mifune growled. This happened occasionally, and he thought perhaps his own admission of having had a bad dream might have touched off one of her own. The girl had gone through a lot in her short life, and sometimes had dreams from which she was all but inconsolable. Of course she wouldn't have been soothed by Bekko's presence.

They turned a corner and Mifune was all but running flat out now, Bekko racing along after him. The dildo shifted painfully inside him with each step, making it hard to run properly, but he didn't slow down. He couldn't afford to spend even a minute longer than he needed to, and more importantly, Angela needed him.

"So you're Giriko's latest, huh?" Bekko panted, almost conversationally.

Mifune almost missed a step in surprise. "What do you mean?" he growled, really not wanting to talk about this at _all_ , but he couldn't just ignore what Bekko had said.

"Well," Bekko said. "He usually has _someone_ he's screwing. But you're the first one who's one of Arachne-sama's favourites. From what I hear, he usually goes for easier targets."

'I'm not one of Arachne's favourites', Mifune almost said, but he bit his tongue. "Oh?" was all he said.

"Yeah, they usually don't last long," Bekko said apologetically.

Mifune felt his stomach clench. "What?" He saw his door and stopped, rounding on Bekko. "Don't last long?"

Bekko hesitated, then raised his hands in defence. He seemed to think Mifune was worried he was going to get dumped. "He gets tired of 'em," he said. "I mean, sometimes they don't last more than a day or two before he drops them. How long have you two been doing this?"

It was none of his business, but Mifune answered him, desperate for information. "This is my third day."

Bekko let out a low whistle. "And he was doing that?"

"What are you talking about?" Mifune asked in a strangled tone. His throat had closed at the confirmation that Bekko knew what they had been doing. No, what Giriko had been doing to _him_.

"Well...well sometimes his favourites last for a while," Bekko said, his voice trembling slightly. "But...but then they usually wind up dead. He gets too rough, they say."

Mifune thought about the promises Giriko had been making, about whipping him, and he went utterly cold. "Mention any of this again and I'll kill _you_ ," he said stonily. "Now I have a job to do, with Angela-sama. Stay in the hall."

He grabbed his key out of his pocket and went into the suite, slamming his door in Bekko's face.

He could hear the sound of Angela sobbing in the bedroom as soon as he entered the suite. Immediately, pushing his own concerns aside, he strode to the bedroom and threw open the door.

"Mifune!" she wailed, and launched herself off of the bed, throwing herself into his arms.

"Hush, hush," Mifune murmured softly into her curls, cradling her and moving to the bed to sit. She squirmed uncomfortably in his lap, and he just held her tighter. "Everything's going to be all right," he whispered.

It had never been more of a lie.

* * *

The trip to calm Angela down earned him twenty-two more strikes. He lay half-insensible on the bed after Giriko was finished, the chains undone but unable to move, panting, moaning, whimpering helplessly. The vibrator was still pulsing inside him, and his whole lower body ached, but he couldn't _come_.

He wasn't entirely certain he'd been counting properly there, at the end. But Giriko seemed exceedingly pleased with him, so he must have done all right. The weapon sat on the bed next to him, stroking his hair, murmuring his approval.

But Mifune couldn't stand it. The vibrator was driving him crazy. "Can...can I take it off?" he gasped. "It hurts."

"Hmm?" Giriko ran possessive fingers down Mifune's spine. "You askin' for something?"

 _What I want doesn't matter. He gets too rough, they say._ The words echoed in Mifune's mind and he shuddered, pushing them away. Mild as it was, he didn't think he could take any more punishment. But at the same time, he _had_ to ask.

"Please, sir," he said, a little desperately. Every word was painful. "Will you take the vibrator and ring off? Please?"

"You wanna come, don't you?" Giriko murmured, the smirk obvious in his voice.

The word was dragged reluctantly from Mifune's lips. "Yes..."

"But that ain't fair," Giriko said, curling his fingers in Mifune's hair. "I mean, you've already come today, and I ain't come once. And now you wanna come again, and I _still_ got nothin'."

It made a bizarre, twisted sort of sense, though Mifune couldn't really understand what Giriko was getting at. If Giriko wanted something, he need only take it. If he hadn't had an orgasm thus far, it had been because he'd chosen not to.

Still, it almost seemed as if the man was looking for a suggestion or concession from Mifune. "You...could fuck me," Mifune said hesitantly.

Giriko laughed. "I knew it," he said. "I knew the minute I got rid of some of that pride of yours, you'd turn into a filthy, begging whore." Mifune curled up, his face burning, drawing his knees up towards his chest as Giriko went on. "But that won't work, see, 'cause you'll like me fuckin' you just as much as I'd like it. You'll probably come the second I take it off to fuck you, and then come _again_ while I do it, and then you've got _three_."

 _Are we keeping score or something?_ Mifune wondered, but Giriko's point was loud and clear.

"Then...then I could use my mouth on you," Mifune stammered.

Giriko let out a satisfied sigh. "Now _that_ sounds like a good idea. Does my little slave wanna blow me again, huh?"

When Giriko put it like that, it seemed like the _last_ thing Mifune wanted to do. But the pulse inside him was insistent, pressing on his mind, and the ultimate goal was to get Giriko off so he would go to sleep and leave him alone, right? So what did it matter what filthy names Mifune was called in the meantime?

"Yes, sir," Mifune murmured.

"All right, then since ya asked so nicely," Giriko said, stretching out on the bed. As Mifune sat up and turned around to face him, Giriko smirked at him. "Now you didn't wanna do this last time," he said. Mifune was almost surprised that he'd noticed. "So I want ya to make this real good this time, to show me just how much you love my cock. Show me how much you want to do this, now."

Mifune honestly had no idea how he was going to do that, but he nodded slowly. He'd think of something. "Yes, sir."

"Fuck, I love how pretty you are when you're not mouthin' off to me," Giriko sighed, reaching up to curl his fingers in Mifune's hair once more as the samurai crawled between his legs and reached for his straining fly.

Distantly, in the small corner of his brain not taken up by the aches in his body and the unbearable rush of hormones, Mifune wondered why Giriko had even wanted him in the first place if he hated Mifune's natural personality so much. But of course all he really wanted was his body, that much was clear. And Giriko seemed to take almost as much pleasure from breaking Mifune down as he did from the sex itself.

He wondered now how he could have thought for a moment that Giriko wanted him for his company.

His fingers kept trembling, but somehow he managed to get the button open and the zipper pulled down without too much difficulty. His cheeks were still burning, and he could feel Giriko's eyes on him, but he focused on the task with all of his attention.

So he was supposed to show Giriko how much he wanted to do this, was he? Well, that presumed that he wanted to do it at all, of course. But the ache of his body drove him on. If he did this, he'd get relief. And he wanted relief almost more than anything.

He drew Giriko's member from the fabric with one hand and gave it a couple of tentative strokes. Giriko groaned deep in his throat, the sound a deep, anticipatory rumble. He had to be almost as aroused as Mifune was, from how hard he was, with the bit of precome leaking from the tip.

Mifune bent and licked the drop from the tip. He recognized the flavour immediately as that first flood that he had tasted the other day, and now he understood better what he had experienced.

"F-fuck, Mifune," Giriko gasped as Mifune took his time, opening his mouth and swirled his tongue around the head. "Y-you're fuckin' killing me, here."

Suddenly Mifune was struck by inspiration. "I...I want you, so much," he said softly, trying to inject the need he felt into his tone rather than holding himself back. "I don't want it to be over too soon."

He lowered his head and licked the underside of Giriko's cock from root to tip, then swirled his tongue around the head. Giriko groaned and squirmed.

"Yeah...yeah..." he gasped. "Fuck you want me, don't you? You want me so bad you can't fuckin' stand it."

"Yes," Mifune lied, his voice shaking slightly. "E-ever since you made me do it, I...I couldn't wait to do this again."

Giriko groaned louder. He lifted his hips and pushed down at the waistband of his pants, freeing his lower body from the confining fabric. Mifune paused in what he was doing to pull the pants off completely, leaving Giriko nude from the waist down for the first time in Mifune's presence.

It was a rougher body than Mifune's own, with ginger hair on his legs and skin roughened by hard work and by scarring. Giriko seemed to have quite a lot of scars, here and there, one that looked like it might be from a knife, another a jagged slice perhaps from a piece of glass, another one a shiny burn just above the knee.

Mifune had never realized what a rough life Giriko - no, _this_ body of Giriko's - must have led before, and he wondered why he had so many scars. Not all of them looked like they would have been from accidents that happened while working on and with golems.

But now wasn't the time to think about it. He continued to lick and swirl his tongue around Giriko's cock, punctuating his movements with more lies, until finally Giriko curled his fingers into a fist in Mifune's hair.

He was gasping. "Fuck, you have such a pretty, teasing mouth," Giriko groaned. He pulled and Mifune's head was forced up until he met Giriko's eyes. "Don't fuckin' lie to me again," the other man growled, his eyes smoldering with lust and anger in equal measure. "You don't fuckin' have the right to lie to me. And I want you to suck my cock, not talk about it all night. Now get on with it, whore."

Mifune whimpered as Giriko gave his hair a sharp, punishing tug before releasing him. He had thought this was what Giriko _wanted_ \- to hear him beg and fawn over him and debase himself, whether the things he said were true or not. Wasn't that what Giriko was constantly doing?

He felt like he would never understand Giriko, and until he could understand him, these encounters would always end with him worse off.

Worse, he almost felt like he'd done something wrong. He cast about for something to say and finally said the only thing he thought might help. "I'm sorry, sir. I won't lie to you again."

Giriko grunted uncaringly, flinging the arm he had grabbed Mifune with over his eyes. He looked disgruntled, but his cock was still as hard as ever, and Mifune was still aching, with the vibrator still pulsing maddeningly inside him. He shifted a little closer and opened his mouth, plunging his head down and taking in as much of Giriko's cock into as he could manage.

He hollowed his cheeks, suckling as he bobbed his head up and down, curling his fingers around Giriko's balls and massaging them at the same time. Now all he really felt he could do was make Giriko feel good enough to forget the transgression. He had earned good-will, he was sure, by submitting and performing so well during the spanking. He didn't want to lose what little positive ground he had managed to gain.

Bekko's warning was still floating through his head, and he was painfully aware that Giriko could easily have killed him several times tonight. He could kill him with a thought, by slicing his skin open with the chains he couldn't take off. If he had beaten him with some kind of instrument instead of the flat of his hand, he might have killed him that way, and he had promised to do that in the future.

His only hope of living much longer at this point was to keep Giriko happy.

So he squeezed his eyes shut and sucked him off for all he was worth. Soon Giriko was writhing and crying out. His hand was back, curling lightly and almost affectionately at the base of his neck, and Mifune performed as best he could, plunging his head downwards as far as he could go, and struggling against his gag reflex as Giriko's cock bumped against the back of his throat.

His fingers continued to massage and rub at his balls, adding just a bit more stimulation, and he didn't think it would take much longer before Giriko reached climax. He was so rigid in his mouth it scarcely felt like flesh, hot and hard and tasting of salt and bitter precome.

Giriko had been quiet for the first few minutes, but slowly he started to moan Mifune's name, and follow that up with more of his usual filth. His fingers tightened in Mifune's hair, but this time he didn't control the movements of his head.

Only at the end did Giriko go rigid and jerk his hips upwards a few times helplessly. The weapon let out a throaty scream as he drove his cock up into Mifune's mouth and released his orgasm. The fluid flooded into Mifune's mouth and he struggled valiantly to swallow it all this time, rather than gagging and choking on it. Somehow he managed it, though he honestly wasn't sure how.

Finally, Giriko released him and relaxed to the bed, panting. Mifune felt the member softening in his mouth and lifted his head, letting it slip from his mouth, his jaw aching from the unaccustomed abuse. Had it been good enough? Had he made up for his faux pas?

"C'mere," Giriko murmured, smirking lazily at him, his eyes open only to slits. He patted the bed beside him.

With a soft whimper in the back of his throat at the need to move - every shift and movement was agony now, the vibrator _too_ sensitive, his cock so hard that it hurt - Mifune crawled up the bed to collapse beside Giriko.

Giriko rolled onto his side and drew Mifune against him, spoon-wise. He dropped his hand down and played his fingers lightly over Mifune's aching cock as if it were a fine instrument.

"You still want me to take it off?" he murmured into Mifune's ear. "You still want to come?"

Mifune was gasping and couldn't stop the soft whimpers from bubbling up in his throat as Giriko touched him there. "Yes, yes, sir," he managed.

"Beg me."

The words weren't entirely unexpected. The pulse of shame and anger in Mifune's stomach was there, but muted, and he told himself that was just because he had _known_ Giriko would make him do this.

"Please," he moaned. "Please, sir, please let me come. Please, I beg you."

"Good," Giriko whispered approvingly, and Mifune felt a knot in his chest relax. It was good, was it good _enough_?

Then he screamed as Giriko grasped the soft rubber ring and drew it off of his cock in a swift motion. He shuddered, and for a moment he was terrified that he _wouldn't_ come, that it had been too long to wear something like that, and that something had broken inside him.

But then Giriko touched him again, curling his fingers around his cock and stroking once, and the vibrator pulsed against his prostate, and suddenly he shuddered and screamed again, spasmed harder than he ever had before. His toes curled and his stomach and thighs knotted. He screamed until his voice was raw as the orgasm slammed into him so hard and so suddenly that he whited out for a moment and knew nothing but the waves and waves of ecstasy crashing over him.

When he came back to himself, it was obvious that several minutes had passed. The lights in the room were all off, and the blankets had been pulled up over him. His breathing was still harsh and his body was still trembling from the intensity of the sensations, but Giriko was running his hand soothingly over his chest, murmuring into his ears words that he couldn't quite catch, but which were rich with approval.

"G-god," he moaned, not quite meaning to say anything. Giriko rumbled a laugh.

"Liked that, didn't ya?" he murmured. "Told you you'd come to appreciate me someday."

Mifune wouldn't go that far, but he didn't try to contradict him. He closed his eyes again and sighed softly, relaxing. It seemed to be over, and Giriko would surely go to sleep now. And if the gods were merciful, he could simply sneak back to his own room.

But the truth was that he fell asleep long before he heard Giriko's breathing even out in sleep. He fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep with Giriko's calloused fingers drifting over his chest, and his arm wrapped around him securely, his body pressed tight to him from behind, and he didn't know anything more until morning.


End file.
